


Ashayam

by ViolettaValery



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Star Trek References, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 18:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery
Summary: Michael proposes.





	Ashayam

“Where are we going?” Alex asks. It’s been several days, but he’s still getting used to the unfamiliar ship with all its twists and turns, to the fact that they’re on a spaceship, in _space._ But Michael just smiles mysteriously and tugs on his hand until they reach the observation deck, its floor-to-ceiling windows dwarfing everything in sight.

The first time Michael had shown him this view, he had stared, rapt, for nearly an hour. He’d been able to feel Michael’s eyes on him then, his small, pleased smile. And only Michael himself was able to eventually drag his gaze away from the spectacle beyond the glass.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Michael asks.

 “Yes, of course,” Alex says. The moment is etched in his memory as the happiest of his life. Or one of them, anyway, on par with the moment when Michael showed him a ship whose existence shouldn’t even have been _possible_ and asked Alex to come with him.  

Now, Michael looks just as nervous as he did that day in the museum. Gone is the studied swagger he had cultivated over the past decade; when Alex looks at him now, he sees the teenage boy who’d asked him to talk in private.

“That kiss – it was – “ Michael shuffles from foot to foot, not quite meeting Alex’s eyes.

“Among the stars,” Alex offers. They had been worn, glow-in-the-dark stars, a pale imitation of the ones they stand before now, but Alex wouldn’t trade it for the world, for the _universe_ even.

Roswell had become his entire universe that day.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “So it seemed right to do this here.”

Before Alex can ask what “this” is, Michael drops to one knee. The damn romantic bastard actually gets down on one knee in front of Alex, and he has never looked more beautiful. The dim lighting falls on his golden curls like starlight, and he looks…hallowed.

“Marry me,” he breathes, holding up a ring.

Alex’s eyes fall to it, and he gasps. It’s simple band, but Alex recognizes the material from one of the museum exhibits. Meteorite, shaped into a ring, its rough edges polished into shining facets.

It’s a ring from the stars, like Michael himself.

He can feel the tears brimming in his eyes. “Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Yes, of course.”

Michael’s smile shines brighter than any sun as he stands. Alex offers his hand, and Michael slides the ring onto his finger reverently. It fits perfectly.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” Alex admits, apologetic.

Michael glances down at his hand, its fingers warped. Getting a ring onto it would be uncomfortable, difficult even. But he just smiles more and pulls another ring out of his pocket. “I was hoping you’d say yes,” he explains as he opens his palm.

Alex gasps again. It’s one of the rings he wore in high school, a battered chain threaded through it. The one he’d left where he knew Michael would find it, before he left for the Air Force.

“You kept it all this time.” He’d always wondered.

“Yeah. It’s too small for my fingers, so mostly I wore it around my neck,” he explains.

Alex picks it up, and the memories flood back. Cradling Michael’s head as they kissed. The way Michael had smiled at his black nail polish and kissed his hands, knuckle by knuckle. He feels his tears fall even as he can’t stop smiling.

Michael bows his head to let Alex put it around his neck like a commendation. The ring rests above his heart, and suddenly Alex is overwhelmed by the unbearable weight, the _gravity,_ of this moment.

“So, are we talking human marriage, or do you guys have some kind of special ceremony you do on your planet, or –“ he asks, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation.

“We have bonding ceremonies.”

“Like Vulcans?”

Michael smiles. “Yeah.”

“Pon farr, too?”

Michael’s smile turns into a grin as pulls Alex in by the waist. “Hey, if you want to roll around in the sand with me, I won’t say no.”

“Ughh. Sand. No thanks. I’ve seen enough sand to last me a lifetime.”

Michael giggles. Alex can’t help himself and follows suit, feeling freer than he has in decades. Soon they’re both laughing in fits and starts.  

“I love you,” Alex says when he catches his breath, and Michael looks at him like he hung the sun in the sky.  “And I can’t wait to marry you the human way and the Vulcan way and any other alien way there is.”

Michael rests their foreheads together.

“Ashayam,” he murmurs.

Back when they were still lost boys looking to a fictional future to imagine a world that accepted them, drawn to a relationship between an alien and his human, he’d taught Michael that Vulcan word, not knowing how prescient its meaning would turn out to be.

_Beloved._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an incurable romantic and I make no apologies for this tooth-rotting fluff. 
> 
> "Ashayam" is, as the fic says, the Vulcan word for beloved, though I'm not sure it ever appeared in canon; I think it may just be part of the tie-in novels or the fanfiction world. 
> 
> Michael and Alex were totally Star Trek fans and you can't convince me otherwise. Michael was drawn to Kirk/Spock because of the human/alien relationship aspect, while Alex found that writing slash fiction about them helped him figure out his own sexuality. That's my headcanon, anyway.


End file.
